A New Chance
by Thegirlsmiles
Summary: Spring Awakening. What if Wendla did get Melchior's letter in time?
1. Chapter 1

She had gotten the letter in time

**Author's Note**: I've always wondered what it would be like if Wendla has received Melchior's letter. This fic is my first ever epic fic and will have multiple chapters. This is obviously a/u. I wrote it kind of in a tribute to Jon & Lea's last few shows and I don't own anything related to the musical by Sheik & Sater.

She had gotten the letter in time. Ilse had come, when the sun was down, hitting Wendla's bedroom window with a rock. Wendla was delighted to have some company no matter the time at night in which she came. She invited Ilse in and told her to scale the drain pipe right next to her window. Ilse had done just that and scooted into Wendla's room via her tiny bedroom window. She was clad in her pretty green frock Ilse's features were hard, her lips pressed together to form a firm line. It was obvious to Wendla that Ilse was on a mission. Wendla was delighted to see her friend and expressed her joy quite loudly and hugged her fiercely. Ilse noticed that her friend's normally warm brown eyes looked sad.

"Hush Wendla, you'll wake your parents and you know I'm not supposed to be here," she had admonished but returned the hug tightly. Wendla paid no mind. She knew that Ilse could not tell her what the other girls were up to but she was dying for some news about the outside world. Ever since she found out she was expecting Wendla had been holed up in her room secretly writing letters to her friends and Melchior. She hadn't heard replies from any of them. It wasn't like Ilse to be so serious but she was determined to get the letter to Wendla. Ilse had seen a lot in her young life, but she was unnerved at the sight of a pregnant girl. She furtively glanced at Wendla's middle and didn't notice anything, not yet at least.

She handed Wendla the letter and hoped that things would work out for the new couple. "Here … it's from Melchior," she hastily whispered. Ilse had another thing to do tonight; her attendance was required in Priapia. Wendla's brown eyes light up and a smile finally reached the corners of her eyes. She hid it in her nightgown and would read it in the morning.

In the days that followed, Wendla anxiously waited for Wednesday evening, fervently rereading the letter and devising a plan. That was the night that Melchior would come at midnight. Wendla decided to scale the drain pipe like Isle did. She could creep out while her parents were sleeping. She could hardly wait.

The day had arrived. Wendla spent the day rereading any letter he had given her, and thinking of the sweet words he had said to her. It had been such a long time since they had been together and things were certainty different now, would they still care for each other?

She hadn't intended to be so late. Her mother came into her room as she was getting ready for bed that evening. "Wendla, go right to bed. We have an errand to do and we have to leave before dawn. You need your rest, especially if you are to be a mother," she said sardonically, shooting a sharp look at Wendla. Wendla paid no mind and kissed her cheek. "I'll be ready," she promised. The lie slid easily off her tongue. Wendla wasn't sure what would happen when she met Melchior.

Wendla heard her parents talk and argue in their bedroom for a majority of the late evening. She didn't know what they were talking about so fervently but she had a feeling it was about her situation. Wendla waited until their breath was steady and even. Then and only then did she scale the drain pipe. The activity made her very dizzy and tired. She wasn't used to such activity after spending a few weeks in her bedroom. By the time she had reached the graveyard she was at least an hour late.


	2. Chapter 2

She could see that Melchior was distraught

She could see that Melchior was distraught. Wendla immediately felt bad about being tardy. Melchior was sitting by Moritz's grave. It seemed like he was talking to himself or perhaps to Moritz. She heard him talk about the baby and it made her smile. Her body felt strangely warm and only then did she notice the butterflies in her stomach. She remained hidden from his view.

He moved on to look at another grave, still musing to himself aloud about how strange it was to be in a graveyard. He noticed the fresh grave … the grave of Herr Wernher Berger, the mason who had died the week before. "Wendla … Bergmann," she heard him read and then subsequent sobbing. It was so dark, he only had the light of the moon and it was easy to misread the grave marker. This was a grave misunderstanding. She had to go to him.

Her nervousness intensified as she reached his side. In all the scenarios she had pictured, she had never imagined that he would confuse Herr Berger's grave for hers! Who would kill Wendla? The butterflies in her stomach had transformed into the nausea she had been feeling for a month. She put a hand on his heaving shoulder. Melchior was still crying, yelling "No" over and over again. Her queasiness faded as love filled her. He still cared for her as much as she cared for him or else why would he grieve so?

Melchior was dazed with grief. He did not notice her hand on his shoulder. He honestly believed that she was a ghost. Exhausted, his perception was blurred from reality to the supernatural. Wendla realized that she needed a concrete way to prove her existence. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. She tasted the salt on her lips and he felt warm lips on his cheek. Then and only then did he snap out of his trance. He knew that she was alive.

He hugged her fiercely, still weeping. Tears filled her brown eyes as she melted into the embrace. "I thought for sure I hadn't gotten to you in time," he whispered. She had no idea what this meant. "Melchi of course I'm still alive, whatever do you mean?" she inquired.

"Hush, don't concern yourself with such thoughts. I have you and you're safe. They won't get to you," he assured her and himself. He knew they should move away from the graveyard but he just wanted to hold her. "What do you mean?" she persisted. He could not answer. He waved her question away and took her hand. "Come away with me, we must leave," he commanded. It was very late, they should be getting back … but back to where?

After some quick thinking, Melchior decided it would be best to return to his house. He did not want anything to do with his parents, so they could not go to his childhood home. Where could they be together, independent of their parents? He took Wendla's hand and led her away. He also stole a glance at her stomach; she was very slim so perhaps she was showing already. She was not. Then the answer came to him … the hayloft! He would sneak into his house while his parents were still fast asleep and gather many blankets from the coat closet. Maybe his mother had even baked bread for their breakfast.

He led her back to the field closet to his house. Wendla was confused and a bit happy. They were going back to the hayloft? She did not want to rush or bother Melchior with her questions. She should be patient and wait for what he would say. When they got inside of the barn, he let go of her hand. She sat on a bale of hay, still waiting for his explanation. "I thought it would be best to stay here awhile, until I can think of where we can go," he declared in a mature voice. "Here? We're going to sleep in the hay?" she asked, a bit hysterical. "Yes, I will fetch some blankets. Moritz and I used to camp here when we were boys. It is actually quite comfortable," he replied. She was convinced. He rushed out into the dark night and ran into his house. He grabbed the thick woolen blankets without incident.

Melchior came back into the barn; his arms piled high with blankets. Wendla took some from his arms and spread them on a pile of soft hay. They slept soundly with their hands entwined and neither worried about what the morning would bring.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello all. Oh lordy … it's been like 2 months since I updated this story. I would like to thank you for your kind words regarding this story. I do have one request … if you read and enjoy this (or not) please REVIEW! I love feedback.

I am trying to crank out this fic (it's a pleasure thinking of what-if scenarios) but I am studying abroad in Italy for the summer …. So my progress will be slow at best. Thanks for your patience. Keep reviewing. Xo.

Every morning at 4:30 a.m., Herman Gabor would carefully arise. It was his job every morning to feed the cows, horses, and chickens. He always tried his hardest not to wake his wife Fanny, but she always managed to sleep soundly. That was, until their youngest son Melchior was sent to the reformatory last month.

This day was no different, except that it was bitterly cold. Herman rose gently from Fanny's side. Mercifully, she slept through his getting up from the creaky old bed. He quickly washed his face and hands and dressed warmly in the dark. Herman had memorized the path to their closet. He quietly went out the door that lead to the kitchen and picked up the feed bucket.

Wendla Bergman wasn't sleeping so well either. Her stomach was still nauseous, especially so in the mornings. The only thing that would make her feel better was to lose the contents of her stomach. She unwound herself from Melchior's protective grasp around her middle and quickly went by the manager. Gagging, she lost the contents of her stomach. She felt better. Wendla noticed it was freezing. She hugged her arms around herself and hurried back to bed. The sun had not yet rose. Melchior stirred. "Sssh, it's only me. Go back to sleep," she soothed. Wendla lay down beside him and pulled the covers over the both of them. Now just their brunette heads were visible under Fanny's woolen blanket.

Herman grabbed the feed. He hurried to get inside the dark shelter. Herman got the feed for the horses and chickens and carefully gathered water from the trough, careful not to let the water freeze in the cold temperature. No sooner had he deposited the feed that he saw something red out of the corner of his eye. He went to investigate and found two curly, brunette heads sleeping soundly.

Herman couldn't even think. He just shouted out his son's name. And then a young Wendla Bergman's head surfaced, fear flit across her face.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n**: If you are still reading this, after a whole YEAR of no updates, bless. your. heart. And what a year it's been! I hope you were lucky enough to see Spring Awakening, either in NYC, London (such a shame that they're now closed), or on the tour! I saw the tour in Tampa and it was … interesting. Anyway, thanks to the usual people, r&r if you enjoy this. Or not. And thanks for being patient! I think I can finish it off this summer. Lmao.

"MELCHIOR GABOR!" Hermann yelled, his face red. Melchior frantically pulled off the blankets and stood up to face his raging father.

Hermann couldn't help himself, he slapped Melchior as soon as he was upright. Melchior blinked, "S-sir?"

"I cannot believe you are still FORNICATING with that poor young lady," Hermann pointed to Wendla, who was now gagging by the food trough. Melchior looked guilty. "And, son, what about the reformatory?"

"I-I-I …. Father …" This was one of the only times when Melchior had ever been speechless. Hermann couldn't help it. He slapped him again. Wendla looked up and gasped.

Franny had now heard the commotion all the way from the barn. She hastily pulled on her robe and bolted to the barn, just in time to see Wendla get sick again. Franny knelt by her and rubbed her back. "Poor child," she murmured.

Father and son looked up as Franny stole in and momentarily stopped their conversation. When Wendla felt better, Franny calmly asked everyone if they would like to come in for breakfast. He agreed and was filled with pity for Miss Bergmann. Wendla, at least, deserved to come in from the freezing cold temperature. Hermann resumed feeding the animals. Melchior folded up the blankets, Franny offered her arm to Wendla and then they all went inside.

Franny fixed a simple breakfast of bread, fruit, juice, and coffee. Wendla poked at her bread. "You have to eat, dear. I know it's hard but you have to eat for the child," Franny admonished. Wendla managed a few bites. Hermann just glowered in his chair. Melchior said nothing. Everyone finished their meal but lingered around the table.

After what seemed like an eternity Hermann cleared his throat and spoke up. "Melchior, you realize that you can't stay here. Just imagine what our neighbors would say …" Franny gasped but said nothing, for she figured that this would happen. Melchior wasn't shocked either. Wendla promptly burst into tears. She couldn't stay at her mother's house and she was terrified of what would become of them. Melchior raised his chin defiantly. "Fine. I have a plan anyway," he said to his father and ran upstairs to pack a bag quickly.

As weak as she was, Wendla helped to cleaned up. Hermann returned to the barn to finish his chores. After a while, Melchior came downstairs with a knapsack. Franny didn't bother with questions. "Just promise me that you'll write, son," and Melchior agreed. She walked the couple to the front door and gave Wendla a very large hug. She murmured comfort and that Wendla should be strong for the months ahead. Wendla hugged her back and thanked her for everything. She was not sure where they were going but she trusted Melchior completely, for better or for worse. Mother and son had a moment. Franny kissed him and told him to take care of Wendla and the child. It killed her to see her son, his girlfriend and future grandchild go, but she knew this was the best thing for them.

Franny watched as they retreated toward the rising sun. After awhile, Wendla reached up to take Melchior's hand. Franny knew in her heart that they would be fine and all would be well.


End file.
